


Melody

by SeptemberCrypt



Series: Memory [2]
Category: The Maze Runner (Movies), The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: A little angst, M/M, but you know me, i feel so bad for them throughout the whole series, kind of newtmas, not really any spoilers, poor Newt, sad boys, tdc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 17:21:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14337360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeptemberCrypt/pseuds/SeptemberCrypt
Summary: Newt doesn't like finding broken toys in the Scorch.





	Melody

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place several months before "One Night".

Every so often, Vince would send out a group of people to go out and scavenge for supplies. With their increasing numbers, the need for fresh food and equipment has been becoming more frequent. And it’s not that Newt dislikes going out for hours on end; sorting through creepy buildings, sure that one of these times he’ll get jumped by a gang of Cranks and that’ll just be the end. Sometimes, he actually enjoys it. Not the bone-chilling fear and anxiety, of course. But he likes it because it gives him a chance to spend time with Thomas.

Often, the two of them go off on their own, and they spend the hours just talking. They can’t talk about past life experiences, weird childhood mishaps, first crushes, or anything in the range of normal conversation. Neither of them remember their past lives, and from what they know, they weren’t that great anyway.

But somehow, they always find something to talk about. Sometimes it’s about something they found while scavenging, or sometimes it’s about what they hope their future will be. They often share dreams of lounging on a warm beach, listening to the ocean waves. A couple months back, Vince found an old ship he’s positive that in time, he can fix up. He plans to save a bunch of kids from WCKD, as many as they can, and then sail everyone far away from here—somewhere safe.

After everything, Newt thinks he deserves a ‘somewhere safe’. Tommy, too. And Minho; if they ever find him. Newt likes to think that they will, though. He doesn’t even want to imagine not being able to save Minho. He knows Thomas is just as determined as he is, even if he hasn’t known Minho as long as Newt. They’ve all been through a lot together, and Newt would die for either one of them.

Now, though, he and Thomas are sorting through what had to have been an old pawn shop. They’re not really sure what they’re going to find here, if there’s anything that could possibly be of use. Most of the stuff is all corroded and time-worn anyway. Not much survived the Scorch it seems. They keep looking, though. For fun, if nothing else.

Newt blows some dust off some sort of small, wooden block. He thinks it was a music box, but it’s halfway destroyed. He rubs some of the grime off the top, revealing an old label. He can’t quite read what it says, not that he thinks it would mean anything to him anyway. If WCKD has had them for as long as they think, he probably didn’t have items such as music boxes or toys.

He twists his head around to look behind him, seeing Thomas rifling through the front desk, flashlight being held between his teeth. It’s getting late, the sun casting dark shadows everything, making it hard to see. They’re not in any rush, though. They know their way back, and it’s not like daytime is any safer than the night. Time doesn’t seem to matter much to fully gone Cranks. And it wouldn’t be the first time they returned after dark.

Newt turns his attention back to the little broken music box. He flips the grimy lock, lifting the lid and looking inside. There’s the remains of a shattered mirror on the inside of the lid, decorating the rest of the little compartment with sparkling shards of glass. A dusty ballerina missing an arm rests in the center, the tutu chipped.  

For some reason, the broken music box makes him feel sad. Like it once belonged to a bright little girl who’s most likely long dead by now. He always hates it when he finds old toys. It reminds him of how many people are dead, how completely destroyed the world is. Because somewhere, at one point, there was a child that loved one of those toys, but they can’t ever play with them again because they either got sick, got killed by the sick, or were taken by WCKD for experimental purposes. And Newt knows that none of it is fair, that the poor kid didn’t deserve to have anything happen to them.

He feels around the side of the box for a moment, fingertips brushing against the rough wood, before winding it up. Newt wasn’t expecting it to play; it looking damaged beyond repair. But it does. The sound that comes out of it sounds broken, out of tune. But it still plays, somehow. After all these years it’s still holding on.

A cheery little tune turned sad by circumstances echoes throughout the room, breaking the silence. The song triggers something in the back of Newt’s mind, nothing solid, or even exactly memorable. But he recognizes it. He’s heard it before, and the melody seems to calm him. Newt wishes he could remember from where or when, but when he digs deeper, all he gets is this song and the vague feeling of being warm, in someone’s arms. Home.

“You okay?” Newt blinks back to reality to see that Thomas had moved to stand next to him, looking at him with worry swimming in his eyes. “You spaced out for a few minutes there.” He looks over his friend for a moment, the shadows falling over his face and making his eyes seem brighter, before returning his attention back to the music box. The song had stopped playing by now, causing the nice memory to sink back into the depths of his mind. The feeling it gave to him stays, though.

“Yeah.” He replies, closing the lid and setting it back down gently, surprised by the steadiness in his voice. He thinks for a moment that maybe he should take it with him, play it again and see if he remembers anything else. But maybe it’s better for the past to stay in the past. Newt has a feeling that remembering would only make him sad, that somehow the memories could be worse than the hell he’s living now. It’s better to just imagine that everything back then didn’t end in blood and death and tears. Even if deep down, he knows it did.

Thomas stays close, his presence keeping Newt grounded to the real world. He always seems to know when Newt’s battling with his inner demons and needs his support. No words ever have to be said. It’s like he can sense when Newt needs him to just…be there.

Newt feels a warm hand slip into his own, bringing a small, but genuine smile to his face. It’s not often, these days, where Newt can smile and actually mean it. But Tommy can always bring it out of him, somehow knowing just what to do. Almost like they’ve known each other most of their lives rather than a few months.

That brings a new thought to the front of Newt’s mind. Maybe they have known each other for years. Maybe they’ve grown up together, played together, dreamed together. Maybe they didn’t just meet in the Glade, maybe they’d found each other after three years of separation. The more he thinks about it, the more right it feels. This brings tears to his eyes, making him both long for and fear a lifetime of memories. Newt doesn’t ever want to remember, to relive whatever pain he went through back then.

He squeezes Thomas’s hand, leaning in a little closer so their shoulders bump. Newt doesn’t need those memories of Thomas, though. He already has plenty. And Newt wouldn’t trade these new memories for anything. Wouldn’t trade Tommy for anything.

**Author's Note:**

> It was like midnight last night and I was bored so I just sat down and somehow this beauty came out of my ass


End file.
